


Lead The Way

by Moriartys_Cat



Category: MIKA (Musician) RPF
Genre: F/M, Feels, Music, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:19:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriartys_Cat/pseuds/Moriartys_Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I'm a tad obbsessed at the moment.<br/>Here be the Mika fanfic, as it is almost impossible to find one. There shall be smut. <br/>Anywho, have a read and tell me what you think!<br/>Michael has a crappy day and finds his way to a coffee shop where he meets Anthea; stuff happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lead The Way

Chapter 1  
Tonight, like every night started off dull. She weaves in and out of tables, wiping down the empty ones and servicing the patrons of the occupied ones whilst gently humming to herself. A small smile etches itself on the corner of her mouth as she begins her nightly musing. Is she doing the right thing? Should she stay? Or should she sell this place and travel?   
She doesn’t know.  
She never knows, and that is how the girl likes it. Never knowing where life will take her, just living day- to- day; caught up in the wonder of every moment. 

By 9pm, the place reached its capacity, people stepping in off the rainy street to take shelter and meet with friends, but never taking heed of the sign outside. The café used to be a thriving metropolis – a speakeasy in its day, but eventually, the piano in the corner of a raised platform became more of an ornament than an instrument; the speakers subtly hidden in corners providing the musical and relaxed atmosphere. Things were picking up, but it wasn’t a fantastic night; though; though, this allowed her to turn the music up a little louder and to dance behind the counter.  
At 10pm, people has started to leave in dribs and drabs, braving the Sunday night snow to get home; there were half a dozen regulars in the TV lounge watching the replay of the Saturday night football game, not noticing the loud-ish music and the girl swaying her hip in time with the music. She looks up, self-satisfaction radiating from her; satisfied with the polished wooden floorboards, the eclectic mix of coffee tables, booths and lounges scattered throughout the room; the vast collection of books that covers a wall and the inviting light that fills the room with a pleasant glow. Content, she resumes the nightly lockup.

“Scotch, neat please.”   
“Table or booth?” She asked the man waiting to be seated, jerked back to reality as she raced to lower the music. She had never ever had a customer this late on a Sunday night, the abnormality shocked her.  
“Either, it doesn’t matter.”   
Upturned eyebrows and a slight waver in his voice cast the air of forlorn misery about the man, so she seated him in the nook near the piano, where fairy lights cast a glow over his warm skin tone. She bought the scotch over and placed it on a coaster.  
“It’s on the house; you look like you need it.”  
“Thank you..?” a quizzical look washed over his face, unsure of how to react.  
“You can put the music back on, I don’t mind”  
“Local radio okay?”  
“Yes.”

His accent was puzzling – it was more than a mixture of British and American; nevertheless it gave his voice a musical lilt. She resumed her position behind the bar, preparing for tomorrow. Lost in her work, she didn’t notice that the man had silently walked over to the abandoned piano and had sat, tinkling on the out of tune keys.  
The lounge did not close until 1am, but she turned the lights off in other sections until the only lights that were on were above the raised platform that the piano occupied and the main bar. Reflections bounced off the wooden and stainless steel surfaces to the bookshelf that took up an entire wall, filled with book for customers, creating a homely warmth.   
Curious to hear what the man was playing, she turned the radio down. A melancholy tune was being wrought from the ebony and ivory keys, it seemed foreign and familiar at the same time.   
Too familiar.   
He stood up abruptly; before she could offer him anything else and almost stalked out the door.

Realising he had forgot his coat; she grabbed it and ran out into the pouring sleet.   
“Excuse me!”   
She called, but he did not hear her; he was trying to escape the sky’s onslaught too. Speeding up, she called louder.  
“Sir! You forgot your coat.”  
He whirled around and pegged her in place with the intensity of his gaze. It made her uncomfortable to see that much conflicted frustration and grief in a person; reluctantly, she edged a little closer.   
“Here, you may want this.”   
“I’m terribly sorry; I’m not having a very good day.” He stumbled over the words as he took the coat back.  
“The lounge is open 7 days, 8am till midnight; stop in whenever”   
“I’ll remember that, thank you.” The storm cloud looming over his head seemed to shrink a little  
“Don’t mention it.” She whispered with a tiny smile, which he reciprocated before he hailed a cab. 

Chapter 2

Three days passed before he came back.  
The day after he first appeared, she called in a technician to tune and repair the antique piano. By the time he returned, the instrument stood noble – the centrepiece of the platform. The chalkboard that resided outside the café now advertised a free space for local bands to play, the partition that divided the TV lounge from the rest of the café removed, exposing another platform which was now a small stage. When he made his entrance late that afternoon, she let out a breath that she’d been holding for the past 3 days. Disappointment sank in as she realised – judging by his overall appearance - that he probably preferred the opposite gender.  
Surveying the almost empty, post-afternoon rush area, he sidled over to the counter.  
With a shy smile, he said “I thought I should apologise for the way I was on Sunday, I must have looked like a complete loony”  
She let out a small laugh “Only a little; can I get you anything?”  
“Latte; this time, I’ll pay”  
Another laugh slipped out “£3.20. Skim milk?”  
“Heavens no! Life was made to be enjoyed.” He agilely hopped up on a stool and stuck his hand out.  
“Michael, but friends call me Mika.”   
Searing milk went everywhere as the realisation hit her like a freight train.  
“Shit!”  
He clambered down whilst asking “Are you burnt?”  
“No, but I’ll have to make you another latte.” Frustration coloured her cheeks, feeling mediocre in the presence of the renowned musician.   
“I didn’t know a name changed anything, but I’ll still take that coffee if it is all the same to you.”  
After cleaning up, she served him another without making a complete fool of herself.  
“Why don’t we sit down? You look a little flustered.”  
You both took a seat at a booth that overlooked the small garden out the back. After taking a sip and moaning in appreciation, Michael broke the silence.  
“Sooo,” he drew the word out “are you a fan?”  
Pausing a second, she thought out her reply.  
“Not exactly.”  
A rich brown eyebrow raised in response.   
“No, no! I didn’t mean it like that! I bought your first two albums, but everything kinda got lost when I first discovered the iPod..”   
Shame clouded her face and she bent her head, tightening her grip on a cup of earl grey tea. Without saying a word, the man stood up and walked to the piano; motioning for her to follow as he moved through a few warm- up scales. The notes eventually flowed into something vaguely familiar until he came to yet another abrupt halt, letting his hands fall on the keys. A flat note resonated through the room.  
“Y’know, I never asked your name. You do have one? It’d be terribly awkward if you didn’t.”  
A sly, mischievous grin started to spread across his face as she blurted out her name.  
“Anthea Starke, university dropout and coffee shop owner”  
“Well Miss Starke, would you like to catch up on the past 5 years?”  
“I think we’ll need more coffee.” Anthea said with a wink.  
Over the noise of the espresso machine, she heard the cheesy notes of Grace Kelly and couldn’t help smiling as she sang along to the chorus. Not wanting to have the moment spoiled, she flipped the open sign to closed and sat down next to Mika, watching his elegant fingers grace the keys with the song’s melody.  
“This is the title track form my last album.. I explored love songs, but I still haven’t found the perfect one yet. “  
Whilst he was saying this, she studied his face. He was all earth tones - Dark, lustrous hair fell in curls over his head, drawing attention to the endless yet definitive brown eyes; framed by eyelashes that were longer than most girls, castings shadows onto his cheekbones. Noticing her staring, he asks “What’s the matter?”  
“Just wondering how the music comes to you. I listen to a beat or a melody and wonder how it ever came to the person that composed it. I feel so..” Anthea struggles for the right word  
“.. Ordinary.”  
Sensing her discomfort, he moved over for her to take a secondary part of the right hand. Gesturing to three keys, he said “press these like so every 2 bars.”   
Whilst he demonstrated on lower notes, she practiced on the keys he motioned to.  
“Almost, but not quite.”  
He wrapped his fingers around her thin wrists and spread her fingers to a more relaxed state.   
Holding her arm as though it were an extension of his own, he demonstrated the short, sharp cycle through the keys.  
“Does this help?”  
Through a flush, she manages to squeak a small yes.  
“What is the matter?”  
“Just a little embarrassed, I’ve never done this before.”  
An unguarded laugh burst out of his chest like a ray of sun through a grey sky, adding light and warmth to the setting. It was infectious; before she knew it, she was playing along whilst he sang.  
Repeating the song numerous times, Michael paused at the end of each line – Anthea’s cue to finish it.   
“Love is a drug and you are my..”  
“…Cigarette”  
“Love is addiction and you are my…”  
“…Nicorette!”  
They both dissolve into fits of giggles, feeling juvenile.  
“Okay, okay; this is a work in progress, tell me what you think”  
Scooting back, Anthea watched as his hands bounced across the keys; a gleeful tune accompanying his falsetto vocals.  
“You’ve got the whole world in your pocket   
But you just don’t know,  
Everybody’s smiling at you   
Everywhere you go,  
It’s like you’ve got that secret   
That everybody else wants to know

Anywhere you are is just like home to you   
From the beaches of Manila down to Kathmandu   
Yeah, you’ve got that secret   
That everybody else wants to know  
But you won’t ever let it go”

Perched on the stool, a smile reflects her opinion.   
“Is there any more?”  
“Not at the moment.”  
Standing up, she announces that they should celebrate with ‘something stronger’. Anthea bounds over to the lockup and asks him what he wants.  
“Oh shit! I’ll have to take a raincheck, I was meant to be on the other side of town 10 minutes ago.”  
He finishes the sentence with a small growl, seemingly foreign for his vocal range.   
“I shouldn’t keep you any longer then. Here, take this.”  
She passed him the card to the café, with her name, address, phone numbers and email on it; impulsively taking a chance.  
“I intend to return soon, make sure the piano is free Ms Starke. ”   
He gave a small, half- smile as his mouth savoured her name.  
“I shall, Mr Smith.”  
Michael spluttered a laugh at the reference, highlighting the dimples on each side of his face.  
He shrugged on his navy blazer and gave a half- skip as he went outside; humming the melody to the song he was composing.

Chapter 3 

Infected with the joy he exuded, she went to the computer on the counter and opened the music player that connected to the café’s sound system. Once again, the room was filled with his voice; layered with a dance beat, disguising the fact that love is overrated.   
It wasn’t long before the regular stream of people came in for their afternoon coffee, slightly unnerved by Anthea’s gusto to which she attacked her work with. She felt like the energiser bunny, renewed by the prospect of a new adventure; but at the same time she felt bone- tired, keen to brave the weather and the 4 block walk to get home and to her bed.   
At 5pm she handed the café over to the night waiter and trotted out the door. A few metres from her flat, she noticed a man waiting out the front, collar upturned and shoulders hunched against the blistering cold. As if sensing her presence, he looked up.  
“Annie, baby. I tried getting in but you’ve changed the locks.”  
Anthea blanched at the sight of her ex, not believing his audacity.  
“I guess that’s what you get for screwing my best friend. Some business trip that was.”  
“Aw, fuck. You weren’t meant to know.”   
She rolled her eyes at the sight of him – Anthea once loved his coppery hair and clear blue eyes, but now she saw him for what he was. His hair carefully – no, vainly - styled to look messy and piercing blue eyes, like discs of ice that sent chilling sensations down her spine. He repulsed her.  
Her ringtone startled her, she answered without thinking.  
“Michael, that was quick.”  
Warmth crept back into her, but faded when she caught the look on the face of the parasite in front of her.   
“I’m staying true to my word. I had fun today and I was hoping we could do it again tomorrow? I’ve got two weeks to spare before I head to LA for Christmas..”  
He trailed off, waiting for a response. She smiled to herself and took him up on his offer. Commenting on how tired she sounded, Mika apologised for keeping her and gave her stern orders for a shower and bed.  
“What are you? My mother?”  
“Gosh, I hope not!”  
“Thank god for that!   
Bed. Now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”  
“Goodbye, Mr Smith.”  
“Goodbye, Ms Starke.”  
Anthea hung up and the familiar chill returned as she met his glacial glare. He laughed at her and ran his hand through his hair.   
“Aren’t we the little slut? I should’ve known; I go on a business trip and you sleep around.”  
A sardonic laugh escaped her lips.   
“He’s gay, asshole. Your shit is in my dumpster; a gutter rat like you should be more than familiar with one of those.”  
She pushed past him, unlocked her door and slid down against it once she got it closed. Staring down the hall, Anthea exhaled loudly and scrambled to her feet. Making her way out of the bathroom after a long soak, she cast a cursory glance at her kitchen and decided to reheat last night’s Italian, putting it with a generous glass of red wine. Curling up in a high- backed armchair, she turned the TV on and flicked through her hard drive to her favourite show – Supernatural.  
Barely through the second episode, she surrendered to her heavy eyelids. 

Chapter 4

The next morning was not good. Anthea woke up late, cold and with a sore neck. Racing through her closet, she pulls out a skin-tight black skirt to pair with her work shirt. Frustrated at not having any other clean clothes, she scoops her wayward hair up into a messy bun and hastily swipes on makeup. Deciding that she was too late, she races down the footpath to the café, perplexed to find that it was already opened. Oh shit – today was a rare day off for her. Dashing through the door, she runs into Michael.  
Literally.  
“Your waitress just told me that this was your day off?”  
“Don’t ask. I’ve been awake for approximately 20 minutes and my day is already horrid.” Anthea rubs her temples with her two index fingers.  
“I endeavour to fix that.” A wolfish smile spread across his face, making his brown eyes burn.  
“I need to go back to my place and change out of my work gear, would you like to tell me your plan over a quick cuppa?”  
“Certainly, did you walk or drive?”

Twenty minutes later they were seated in her lounge room dunking oversized choc- chip cookies in their homemade lattes.   
Changed and in a better mood, Anthea discusses their plans for the day – which is nothing at all. Unplanned adventures around London.   
“Well then, Mr Smith; let me grab my purse and shoes and we’ll hit the streets.”  
After lacing her combat boots and raiding her cash stash, she walks towards the front door, stopping in her tracks when she finds Travis – the gutter- rat – trying to push his way past Mika.   
“She’s my fucking girlfriend, get out-“   
“No Travis, you get out! Get out of my house and get out of my life! Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me.”  
She’s properly riled, fuelled with her anger from his audacity last night.  
“Get your hands off my friend. Touch him again and I will call the police and I will get a restraining order.”  
“Baby, please,” he began “you don’t mean this.”  
“On the contrary, I do. Out. Now.”  
“You heard her. Or is that too much for someone of your intellectual level?”   
Michael stepped in front of Anthea and looked Travis dead in the eye. Sensing defeat, he backed down, walked to his motorbike and left. Hearing her sob, he turned around just in time to see her first tear fall.   
“I’m alright, just give me a few seconds.”  
He walks her back to the lounge and sits her down. He then proceeds to disappear into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a box of Kleenex.   
He passes her the water and lets her take a sip before he sits down next to her; with one hand, he delicately tips her chin up before he dabs away her tears and fixes her makeup.  
“Try to smile, it suits you,”  
Unable to stay upset, a smile etches itself into her features.   
“You’re almost there,” He slides his arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his chest for a half- hug   
“Are you still up for our adventure?”  
Looking up into his eyes, she says “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

Chapter 5 

An hour later, they’re roaming the streets and market places.   
“Does this suit me?” Michael emerges from behind a silk screen wearing a kimono and a ridiculous grin. “I think it emphasises my cleavage.”  
“Oh, you’re simply irresistible!” Anthea’s joke holds more than plain humour.   
“Do I attract you?”  
Her mouth forms an ‘O’, unsure of how to react.  
“Do I repulse you with my queasy smile?”  
“Am I too dirty?  
Am I too flirty?   
Do I like what you like?”  
Anthea burst into peals of laughter as he shimmies around singing.  
“Why don’t you like me? Why don’t you like me without making me try?”  
The few customers in the shop look at him as though he has gone insane. Grabbing his hand, she drags him back behind the screen and removes the kimono before they get thrown out of the store.   
“Undressing me? Quite the height of impropriety, Ms Starke!”  
Blushing, Anthea recoils as though she has burnt herself.   
“I’ll wait outside.” She says quickly.   
She leaves before Mika can say anything. 

After exiting the boutique, Michael looks around to find Anthea leaning against a wall, presumably scrolling through her newsfeed and oblivious to his presence. Determined to make up for the awkward situation in the dressing room, he approaches her and ensnares her hand in his; their entwined fingers indicating more than the platonic gesture intended. Looking down at their hands and then up at their reflection in the shop window, they shared a brief conspiratorial glance before continuing their adventure, still hand- in- hand . After walking for a block, he steered Anthea into a small restaurant.  
“I’m starving!” She exclaims.  
“I thought you might be,” he replied “This is the best place in the neighbourhood. The linguine is phenomenal”  
After finishing their meal, the pair concedes that it is time to go home, but they were reluctant to leave each other’s company.   
“How about a movie at mine?” Anthea asks shyly.   
“Lead the way.”


End file.
